Hey :)
Up to now, I’ve been thinking out loud about leverage, the quality of work, and the discipline it takes to protect time for the things that really matter.
There’s one more layer to this that feels unavoidable.
You are one person.
You have one brain.
And your work life and personal life aren’t actually separate.
They bleed into each other whether you like it or not.
The brain doesn’t have an off switch
One of the challenges of being a knowledge worker is that your brain is often “on” even when you’re not officially working.
There’s no clear line between effort and rest. You can be thinking about a problem while walking, showering, cooking dinner, or lying in bed.
I don’t know how to turn that off entirely. I’m not sure anyone really does.
But I’ve learned that I do need ways to interrupt it.
Finding your own light switch
For me, playing the guitar does this better than almost anything else.
If I pick up a guitar, my brain can’t do anything except focus on the music. The notes. The feel of it. The sound.
It’s almost like a light switch.
If I notice that jittery, anxious energy — the kind where your thoughts are racing — I know I can reach for the guitar and let it settle me.
That’s been a useful thing to learn about myself.
The specific activity doesn’t matter. What matters is finding something that reliably pulls you out of your head and into the moment.
The body and the brain are linked (whether we like it or not)
Movement plays a big role here too.
I’m not a scientist, but I’ve learned enough through experience to know that if I don’t move my body, my thinking suffers.
That could be:
- the gym
- a long walk
- yoga or pilates
- swimming
- anything that gets you out of your chair
It doesn’t have to be extreme. It just has to be consistent.
When the body moves, the mind tends to follow.
Getting things out of your head
Another thing that helps me is writing.
I’ve taken a lot from Julia Cameron over the years — morning pages, in particular. Writing a few pages first thing in the morning helps me empty my head of noise, ideas, worries, and half-formed thoughts.
It gives me space to plan the day and look forward to the work rather than feeling chased by it.
I don’t do it perfectly. I don’t do it every day. But when I do, I notice the difference.
Doing things that force presence
I’ve also learned the value of doing things where distraction isn’t really an option.
Going to the cinema during the day is a good example. Once you’re there, the only real option is to watch the film. Pulling your phone out just defeats the purpose.
Museums, exhibitions, wandering somewhere unfamiliar — all of these create a similar effect.
They slow you down. They shift your perspective. They give your mind something different to chew on.
Sleep is not negotiable
This probably sounds obvious, but it took me longer than it should have to really accept it.
Getting into bed early works for me.
If I’m in bed around 8.30 or 9pm, I can wake up at 5am feeling genuinely refreshed. When I sleep well, everything else becomes easier — focus, patience, judgment.
When I don’t, everything costs more.
Sleep isn’t a reward for working hard. It’s a prerequisite.
Put this stuff in the calendar first
All of this takes time. Which means it has to be planned.
Training goes in the calendar.
Walks go in the calendar.
Therapy, coaching, or counselling go in the calendar.
Walks go in the calendar.
Therapy, coaching, or counselling go in the calendar.
If it doesn’t get scheduled, it tends to get squeezed out by “important” work.
This is where I see a lot of owners get stuck.
They technically have full control over their time, but they still organise their lives around a nine-to-five rhythm out of habit.
You don’t actually have to do that.
If you’re an owner, you can go swimming at 11am and have lunch at the gym. You can work later. You can work earlier. You can design the day around energy rather than convention.
Designing work around life, not the other way around
This year, I made a pact with myself.
Every other Tuesday morning, I go and visit my granddad. He’s 97 this year.
On those days, I don’t start work until lunchtime. I’ll do two or three hours in the afternoon, give them my full attention, and that’s it.
That’s more than enough.
Two or three hours of focused, intentional work can be far more valuable than dragging myself through a full day out of habit.
That’s leverage too.
Long-term thinking changes the trade-offs
There’s a thought I come back to a lot.
Sometimes I want to sit and read instead of going to the gym. I love reading. Anyone who knows me knows there’s usually a book nearby.
But then I remind myself:
If I want to read hundreds more books in my life, I might need to stop reading this book right now and go and train.
Giving up an hour today might buy me ten or twenty more years of doing the thing I love.
That’s a high-leverage trade.
I think that’s the thread running through all of this.
Doing your best work over a long period of time isn’t about doing everything. It’s about consistency. Reliability. Looking after the system — physical and mental — that the work depends on.
You only get one brain. One body.
If you want to do good work for decades, you have to take care of both.
🗣️ 👀
Chris
Chris